


One Thing for Another

by espioc



Series: For the Love of Starjack [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: AU where Starscream lost the election but didn't go to jail and he is thriving, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Starscream loves his boyfriend, swap meet, trading over and over and over again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:01:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24051004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/espioc/pseuds/espioc
Summary: Wheeljack and Starscream go to a flea market where Starscream finds the perfect thing for Wheeljack. But he has to trade to get it.
Relationships: Starscream/Wheeljack (Transformers)
Series: For the Love of Starjack [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1801012
Comments: 10
Kudos: 73





	One Thing for Another

Starscream rubbed the tips of his fingers into the seams between Wheeljack’s shoulder and neck. He bent over and gave Wheeljack a kiss on the side of the head. “You’re working late tonight.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry,” Wheeljack said, not looking up from his work. “I’ll be done in a minute, I promise.”

“I’m tired.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I’ll be right up.”

Starscream pressed his front to Wheeljack’s back and placed his chin atop Wheeljack’s head.

“Always working.”

“Ya know, I’ve been thinkin’.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t know shit.”

Starscream rubbed circles into his chest. “That’s not true,” he grumbled. “You know a lot of stuff.”

“So many of my notes were lost in the war. There’s so much stuff I figured out and forgot.”

“The war was big, you lost stuff. Can we go to bed now?”

“Almost, I’m almost done,” Wheeljack scribbled something on his datapad and huffed. He put his pen down, shoulders going slump. “Man, what I wouldn’t do to get some of my old stuff back. Just somethin’. You know I was stupid. I was stupid about it.”

Starscream’s eyes were closed, half his weight on Wheeljack. “Mhm.”

“I put almost all my stuff on one datapad.”

“Mm, yeah that was silly.”

“I was prone to losing stuff so I put it all on one so I didn’t have to keep track of a dozen. A real old one.”

“Mhm.”

“If I move right now you’re just gonna fall right on the floor.”

Starscream hummed. “No.”

Wheeljack twisted on his stool. Starscream squawked, nearly falling off to the side. He stumbled and grabbed hold of Wheeljack’s arm to keep himself upright. Starscream pouted, standing up as straight as he could. “So mean to me.”

Wheeljack chuckled, placing his hands on Starscream’s waist. “Ready for bed?”

Starscream’s eyelids drooped, his eyes dim. He nodded, taking Wheeljack by the wrists.

“Okay, sleepy,” Wheeljack got off the stool. Without any warning, he scooped Starscream into his arms and held him bridal style. Starscream lulled his head against Wheeljack’s shoulder.

“Strong man,” Starscream muttered. “Small, strong man.”

Wheeljack chuckled, rubbing his cheek against Starscream’s. “I love it when yer like this.”

Starscream only hummed. Wheeljack brought them to bed and laid them down. He cuddled up to Starscream’s side and wrapped his arms around his middle.

“Oh, Star?” Wheeljack whispered.

“Hm?”

“I have to go to the flea market tomorrow. Do you wanna come?”

Starscream turned onto his side and hugged Wheeljack’s head to his chest. “Mhm.”

Wheeljack’s fins blinked. “Really?”

“Mhm.”

“Oh,” Wheeljack smiled, hugging tighter. “It should be fun. I think you’ll find it really cool.”

Starscream muttered something indecipherable before falling completely to sleep.

* * *

Starscream didn’t care for social gatherings of any kind, really. Not balls or meetings or festivals, and especially not flea markets. Wheeljack insisted that a flea market was less a social gathering and more a place where hagglers go to haggle and bots looking for collectables and otherworldly objects went to buy and sell their wares.

Starscream couldn’t remember agreeing to this. Wheeljack seemed excited at breakfast, with his cute finials blinking and his eyes crinkled in the adorable way they crinkled when he was smiling. After learning why Wheeljack was so excited, Starscream didn’t have it in him to dampen his love’s mood, so he smiled and told Wheeljack that he was just as excited.

So, there they were, wading through the crowds of people, looking for one thing, and one thing only. A thing Wheeljack had failed to properly describe. Starscream wasn’t paying much attention to their surroundings, instead concentrating on the feeling of his hand in Wheeljack’s.

“It shouldn’t take too long,” Wheeljack said as they mosied casually through the crowd. “Just look out for any stand with tech or rocks.”

Starscream pursed his lip. “Remind me what we’re doing here?”

“I need a thing. A- it’s a rock. A power source.”

“Don’t we have enough rocks.”

Wheeljack squeezed Starscream’s hand and leaned against him. “Quit bein’ so prickly. It’s been a while since we went out together, I thought it would be fun. Who knows, maybe you’ll find somethin’ you like.”

Starscream half smiled. “I’m sorry,” he said. His wing twitched on his back. “You know I just don’t like being surrounded by people.”

Wheeljack gestured to the crowd. “No one’s even payin’ attention to you. And ya know, we don’t only have to buy my thing. We could make a day of this.”

“What else is there to do but buy old useless junk?”

Wheeljack shrugged. “There are some food stands and stuff.”

Starscream twisted his lip. “Street food, my favorite.”

Wheeljack slumped in the shoulders. He released Starscream’s hand and rubbed up and down his arm with the tips of his fingers. “You okay? You seem more bitter today than usual.”

“I’m just a little tired.”

“You slept like a rock last night.”

“I’m allowed to be tired. I’ll perk up, I’m sure.”

“Okay.” Wheeljack recaptured his hand. “If you’re sure.”

They wandered from one stand to the next. Metal poles haphazardly held up half of the stands’ tents. Some people just had tables, nothing to shield patrons from the sun as they perused the various nick-nacks. These people had everything, from toys to knives to tech to earth objects, books and furniture, and everything else in between. Occasionally Starscream broke his hold on Wheeljack and wandered over to one of the stands to look at a trinket that caught his interest.

Starscream supposed that things like this, the swap meets and flea markets, were a sign of progress. It had been hundreds of years since he’d been in power, and Primus knew what Windblade was up to in her ivory tower, but at least the city was in good enough shape for people to be out on the streets on a hot sunny day, selling their wares with shanix and trades. Autobots, Decepticons, and Nails alike were all there, arguing in a shared language, among many others.

Starscream couldn’t help but take credit for some of the Autobot and Decepticon relations. While he kept out of the spotlight after the loss of the election, it was big news when he and Wheeljack started to date. Peace groups used their relationship as proof that the factions did not need to exist as separate, ever-fighting entities, but could live in harmony. The couple was all over the biggest tabloids and news feeds, bringing hope and disgust alike to Cybertron. The rhetoric of peace seemed a lot more tolerable after that.

Starscream picked something off one of the tables. An old datapad from before the war. He flipped it in his hands, searching for a symbol or a signature that told him who it might have belonged to. Datapads hadn’t changed much since before the war, so the only reason it would be on the table was if it had value.

The person at the stand, an old looking bot with wrinkles in the mesh of his face, came up behind the table.

“Scavenged it from an old Autobot warship, all the way out on their fifth outpost.” he said, his voice sparking and cracked.

Starscream sneered. “What’s on it?”

“It’s an old one model. Pre-war, if you can believe it. You have to turn it on with your own systems,” he reached out his hand and took the datapad back. “Here, let me show ye,” he took a cord from his arm and plugged it into the bottom of the datapads. The grey screen fizzled into the usual blue. Notes came up on screen. “Old notes. An inventor's notes. Belonged to that famous fellow from the Autobots, Wheeljack. You heard of him?”

Starscream cocked his head and flicked his brow. “I might have. He’s pretty famous.”

The bot nodded wide. “Uh-huh. And this is one of his earliest datapads, has pages and pages of notes and stuff from during the war. I got it appraised, it’s the genuine article. You look like the Autobot collectable sort.”

A light went off in Starscream’s head. Though, he wasn’t sure why. “Why don’t you give it back to him?”

The bot chuckled, shaking his head. “Finders keepers.”

“Hm.” Starscream crossed his arms. “How much?”

The bot shook his head, disconnecting the datapad from his arm. “Oh no, I don’t deal in money. I’m looking for a trade.”

“I don’t have anything, but I have money.”

“I’m looking to trade.”

Starscream scoffed. “Well, what do you want?”

The bot pointed to a stand across the way. “Right over there, you see that?”

Starscream looked over his shoulder at the stand of tin-toys and human things. “Yeah. What about it?”

“He’s got over there, ya see it? Right on the top shelf above his head, a Cybertronian sized tin-toy made on earth, to honor the introduction of Earth into the council of worlds. I want that.”

“Will you hold the datapad for me?”

“No promises, but I’ll keep it tucked towards the back till the end of the day.”

Starscream twisted his lip. “Alright. I’ll be back.”

Starscream turned on a heel and walked across the street. The bot with the tin-toys was sitting in a chair reading a magazine, a pair of sunglasses over his Camien painted eyes.

“How much for the Earth tin-toy?” Starscream asked.

The bot looked over his sunglasses. “What do you have?”

“I have shanix.”

The bot shook his head. “No, no. To trade.”

“Oh for Primus sake, does anyone here take fragging money?”

“Some, but I don’t, not for that. That thing’s worth a lot more than Shanix, it’s got sentimental value.”

Starscream scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, right.”

“Do you have anything to trade?”

“No, I don’t.”

The bot shrugged. “Then no deal.”

Starscream huffed. “Well, that do you want?”

“Specifically? Sort of a loaded question.”

“Give me a range.”

“I’ll tell you what I want. I want a predacon paperweight.”

“A what?”

“A predacon paperweight. They make them now, out of old war parts.”

Starscream sneered. “Ew. Where would I find that?”

The bot shrugged. “I dunno, probably somewhere around here.”

Starscream sighed. “Thanks a lot.” He stormed off down the road. By now Wheeljack was nowhere to be found. Starscream moved on by himself, peeking his head in almost every stand. He weaved in and out of the open tables, turned over books and boxes, and was ready to give up entirely on this tedious mission when a glint caught his eyes.

A stand, covered by a tent and manned by a femme with wings like Windblade, had a whole asortment of objects and odeties. Otherworldly body parts like horns and claws, dried out appendages on chains and sitting on wood, and metal eyes encased in glass.

Starscream lowered his wings and stepped inside. He pointed to the shelf of paperweights.

“Are any of those predacon parts?” He asked.

The bot nodded. “Yes, the eye right there,” she pointed. “Right in the middle.”

“How much?”

“Two hundred shanix, or a trade. I’m willing to trade.”

Starscream twisted his lip. Two hundred was a lot. “What would you want as a trade?”

“Organic fabric. I love organic fabric. Scarves, coats, dresses, wing decorations, anything like that.”

Starscream nodded. “Alright, thank you,” he left the stand and started on his way again. Organic fabric couldn’t possibly be that difficult to find around here. They had everything. Starscream stopped at the first clothing stand he found.The stand had second hand, Cybertronian sized dresses made of organic fabrics. There were some truly attractive selections. Starscream ignored his own interest and went right to the point with the two bots manning the stand.

“What’s the cheapest thing you have?”

“In Shanix?” Asked the bigger of the two bots. “We trade.”

Starscream threw his head back. “Oh for fragging- fine. What will you trade for?”

“We’re looking for organic books. A full set of Encyclopedias from Earth.”

“Encyclopedias, are you kidding me?”

“Hey, if you want a dress-”

“Fine. Thank you,” Starscream turned on a heel and walked out of the stand. On his way to hunt for a full set of human encyclopedias, he ran into Wheeljack.

“There you are, though I’d lost ya,” Wheeljack said, recapturing Starscream’s hand. “Find somethin’ cool?”

Starscream nodded. “Yes, I think I did.”

“Not havin’ too much trouble, are ya?”

Starscream flapped his hand. “Oh no no no, don’t worry. No trouble. Hey, I’m sort of trying to get something, can we meet up? I shouldn’t be long.”

“A’course. Just text me when you’re done.”

“I will,” Starscream gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

Starscream scurried off to the closest book stand. After four stands, he found one with a full set of encyclopedias from earth, but the bot manning the stand wanted a collectable ornament from Windblade’s inauguration.The stand with the ornament wanted a mirror from Eukaris. The bot with the mirror wanted an organic copy of The Book of Primus. The bot with the book wanted a statue of the Mistress of Flame. The bot with the statue wanted a replica of Megatron’s fusion cannon, and the bot with the replica wanted Decepticon memorabilia.

Starscream cocked a brow. “Memorabilia, ey? Like what?”

The bot, who was surrounded by Decepticon memorabilia already, shrugged. “What have you got?”

Starscream shrugged. “I don’t know. Old datapads, a gun, or knife-”

“I don’t want weapons.”

“Decepticons didn’t have memorabilia. It’s not memorabilia, it’s just a bunch of stupid shit.”

The bot shrugged. “I think they were interesting. I collect it, I don’t follow the rhetoric.”

Starscream snapped his fingers. “I have an original copy of Megatron’ poems.”

The bot rolled his eyes. “Yeah right.”

“It’s true, most of them unpublished.”

“I don’t believe it. Anyone can write Megatron esque poems and call them legit.”

Starscream’s wings flared, his hand going to his chest. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

The bot pursed his lips and shook his head. “Nope.”

“I’m Starscream. The Starscream, former Second in Command, Starscream, everything I have is legit.”

The bot flapped his hand at him. “Yeah, right. You’re the fifth Starscream I’ve seen today.”

Starscream’s wings flared. “Excuse me!” He screeched.

The bot cringed and covered his ears. “But you are the most convincing.”

“Oh for primus sake, fine!” Starscream took the Decepticon bade out of his subspace and slammed it on the table. “Is that proof enough for you?”

The bot cocked a brow. He took a small spectacle out of his subspace and picked the badge off the table. He looked it up and down, adjusting the spectacle once or twice.

As he pulled away he let out a long vent. “Well, alright.” He sat back in his chair. “Starscream or not, I’ve never seen a real Decepticon badge.” He held it up. “You can have anything for this.”

Starscream went stiff. He grabbed the badge back. “No,” he said quickly, holding the badge in his fist. “It’s part of my spark chamber, I can’t just give it away to some nobody.”

The bot shrugged. “Then no deal.”

Starscream’s lip fattened into a hard line. He stared at the badge in his hand and was suddenly aware of the hole in his spark chamber.

But that hole was only physical.

Starscream placed the badge back down on the table. “Deal.”

The bot smiled wide and swiped the badge off the table in exchange for the replica. Starscream hurried from Stand to stand, trading the cannon for the statue, the statue for the book, the book for the mirror, the mirror for the ornement, the ornement for the encyclopedias, the encyclopedias for the dress, the dress for the paperweight, the paperweight for the tin-toy, and finally-

“Here ya go,” said the old mech, handing over the datapad. “You’re a lucky sort. I had another fella come over here all interested.”

Starscream beamed at the old, thick, datapad. “Thank you. He’ll love it.” For some reason. Starscream wasn’t sure, but he had a feeling that Wheeljack would be excited.

Starscream sent Wheeljack a text and they set up a meeting spot on a bench by the entrance. He sat with his wings high and his knees together, smiling at the thing he had worked so hard for.

Wheeljack approached, two cones of ice cream in hand. “Get something fer yourself?” He asked, handing over one of the cones.

“Not for me,” Starscream said. “I found a thing, and I don’t know why, but I knew you had to have it.”

“Oh, cool, what is it?”

Starscream handed over the datapad. As soon as it entered Wheeljack’s hand, he froze. His finials blinked.

Starscream’s smile dropped. “Jackie?”

“It’s- the thing. It’s my thing. It’s the datapad! Oh my god, you found it!”

Starscream smiled again, nodding. “Yes,” he still didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Oh my god, I’ve been lookin’ for this thing for ages!”

Then it clicked. Their conversation the night before, Wheeljack’s lost work, the datapad with all of his stuff on it. That was it. Starscream’s smile widened. Thank goodness for his subconscious.

“Where did you find it?” Wheeljack asked.

Starscream vaguely flapped his hand in the direction of the stand. “Just one of the stands, there was a bunch of random stuff there.”

Wheeljack grabbed Starscream’s wrist and pulled him down for a sloppy kiss on the jaw. “Oh man, this is amazing! I can’t believe you found it.” He admired the dusty old thing. “Wow. Here I thought I’d never see it again. How much did it cost?”

Starscream flicked his hand. “Oh, it didn’t cost anything. I traded for it.”

Wheeljack furrowed his brow. “What did you trade?”

“Well, the guy who had that wanted a tin-toy, and that guy wanted a paperweight, and that guy wanted a dress, and that guy wanted an ornament, or- No, maybe he wanted a mirror? No, the book guy wanted the mirror, or no- no. Uh.” He waved his free hand. “Whatever. Everyone wanted something for something, all I traded was my Decepticon badge, then I traded and traded and traded until I got this.”

Wheeljack’s fins blinked. “You traded your badge? Oh, Star-”

Starscream shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

“But I know you only kept it-”

“Because it’s made of my spark chamber? Sure,” Starscream smiled. He scooted closer and took Wheeljack’s hand. “But there’s not a hole there anymore.”

Wheeljack was silent for a moment. He squeezed Starscream’s hand and smiled back.


End file.
